


Losing You

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Spoilers for 5x13, character death (fictional)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He heard the quiet cracks of the branches as they shook, felt the chilling breeze that ran through his back, and once again, felt Bradley—<i>Arthur’s</i> body against him, already shivering because of what this means, what this will be and will become, and suddenly Colin was gone and all that was there was Merlin and Arthur, with thousand things to say to the other, but not enough time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [KMM](kinkme_merlin.livejournal.com) [prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/34275.html?thread=36186851#t36186851/): _"I desperately want some character-bleed Bradley/Colin set around the the finale.[...]Maybe they're rehearsing one of those super intense finale scenes and they're both in a really emotional place as Arthur and Merlin, and Colin's all desperate and shaking[...]"_. I tried cleaning it up since I don't have a beta (note to self: I NEED A BETA). I wrote this in the heat of the moment after rewatching the finale for the 20th time and crying like a baby like I did the first time. First RPF I've ever written, so bear with me. 
> 
> 'Justin' refers to Justin Molotnikov, the director of the finale.

“Alright then,” Justin said as he kneeled beside them. “We are attempting to do this in the least number of takes possible,” he said quickly, looking from one to the other. “If you need a moment to concentrate, now will be the time,” he squeezed Colin’s arm gently and stood up. “Now!” he commanded the rest of the crew. “We don’t have too much time here, folks, so as quicker as we can set this up the better,” he walked to his assistant and took the script, checking his notes. He hummed as he read what he wrote and then rolled the script, placing it in the pocket of his jacket. “We are going to start with Bradley’s angle,” he said. “Simon! Bring the camera here,” Simon did as he was told, kneeling in the spot the director was telling him to and setting up the camera.

As the crew was setting up the lens, focus, audio and the illumination, among other things, Colin closed his eyes and breathed in, disengaging himself from the sounds and the movement around him, focusing only on the weight of Bradley’s body over his, feeling the ever so softly way his body moved as he breathed and placed himself in the situation, reminded himself of the other takes, grasping at the memories of everything that had happened in the past few weeks, and felt a tug at his chest. He drowned on the way _Merlin_ was supposed to be feeling at that particular moment, desperate and scared. Exhausted and mad. Anxious and broken and everything _he_ was actually feeling at that same instant. He wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to disappear as he dread that particular moment, the moment they all knew would come but never thought it would be _this fast_ , so, so damn _soon_.

He thought of Arthur, of Bradley himself, what would entail if this was actually _real_ —and it was, he told himself. It _was_ real. Maybe Bradley wasn’t dying, but Arthur was. And, for a moment, Bradley would stop breathing, if only for the camera, for the audience—for those split seconds, Bradley would be dead. Not entirely, but he was going to. He would probably laugh after the take, shake Colin’s arm that now was wrapped around him, but what if he didn’t? What if those moments—those little things that he did, the sly, knowing smiles they shared with the other, would be gone? What if the chances of seeing those eyes spark as he looked at him never returned? 

He knew what Arthur meant to Merlin—he always knew. He might never say it, never discuss it properly with others, but he _knew_. 

And at some point, Colin wasn’t sure if those things were affecting him too. He didn’t know if those pulls at the strings of his heart were because of the tremendous chemistry they both had on set, that undeniable friendship they shared, Merlin’s actual feelings for his King, or Colin’s feelings for Bradley instead. He had no idea, and deep inside, he didn’t want to find out.

He grasped at the so-known feeling of fear, reminded himself of that ache in his chest when he had read the script for the first time, the way everyone teared up after the first reading, the way Bradley remained quiet for the rest of the evening; saw himself as Merlin again, a character he had _become_ , a boy who had dealt with so much, and yet kept going because he knew that it just couldn’t be _over_.

He opened his eyes. He looked down at Bradley, who was staring blankly at a point in the horizon and held him tighter. Arthur was everything to Merlin, and they both knew it. Bradley teased about it—more than anyone—and he and Katie would always gush and play around the idea, Bradley always suggesting things that _of course would never happen_.

It was fun at first. They both knew, though, that things weren’t like that—not explicit, at least. Bradley had told Colin that maybe Arthur was so blinded on doing the right thing, he forgot about himself. Colin had understood, because that’s how he felt about Merlin too. Merlin just hadn’t understood; the idea was so ridiculous at the time that the feelings that _he_ —Colin, even—had actually experienced would only be explained as a love between _brothers_ , but nothing more. Or so he told himself. They cared about the other deeply, and Merlin was always in danger to protect his King. Colin knew it wasn’t just because they were “brothers”, but when he was asked about it he just grinned playfully and never gave a straight answer. 

Those days seem too far away, yet he could still taste them, almost as if it had been yesterday or at least last month. Colin let out an exasperate sigh, he _knew_ since the beginning that his contract expired after five years. Yes, he might have thought—hoped—that they would extend the show, giving them more time to explore his character—share time with his friends, but when he knew the idea the producers had—when he actually _read_ it on paper a few weeks ago, every tiny spark of hope died.

But it was okay, he told himself. Everything had to come to an end. As scary as it might be.  
So now, as he mentally blocked the image of the people surrounding them, pointing microphones over their heads, giving technical directions about the way the frame must look, fussing over his clothes and over his face, he found himself on the clearing they were supposed to be in. He heard the quiet cracks of the branches as they shook, felt the chilling breeze that ran through his back, and once again, felt Bradley— _Arthur’s_ body against him, already shivering because of what this means, what this will be and will become, and suddenly Colin was gone and all that was there was Merlin and Arthur, with thousand things to say to the other, but not enough time.

“Are you ready?” Justin whispered politely to them, at which they nodded at the same time, twisting Colin’s shattered heart. He wasn’t looking at them, he didn’t have to. He only had eyes for Bradley, who had his eyes closed and started breathing heavily, already in character. Colin felt his eyes stung, even before he was supposed to, and held him tighter. “Action,” Justin whispered and Colin felt the world crashing down over them.

He knew his lines. He knew Bradley knew his lines. Even if they didn’t know their lines, they could work it out. It was such an intimate moment, Colin felt Bradley’s breath on his face, and desperately held him, realization dawning over him—he’s dying, he’s _dying_. He lost himself in his eyes, as the despair grew and the distance they had wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted him closer, but it was impossible. Bradley was getting near to the highpoint of his little speech—when Arthur thanks him, and he couldn’t bear it. He just couldn’t. He clutched his face closer, wanting to, well, yes, kiss him, but the stupid controlling part of himself was restraining him to do so, whispering at the back of his mind that he shouldn’t, that he wasn’t told to, even when Justin had told them that they were free to act as natural as they felt at the moment. But this was beyond the directions, or Colin as an actor, it was _Merlin_ who felt like that. Merlin, who knew in that moment, who _understood_ what it meant, what it always had meant, and he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to pull him closer, even if it was physically impossible. Merlin, who understood how stupid he had been all along and could do nothing about it, because Arthur didn’t belong to him. Merlin, who was trying to save Arthur and failing spectacularly at it. Because this wasn’t a scene of a TV Show anymore, this was _them_ , this was real and it was destroying him.

He imagines Bradley mouthing ‘I love you’ before he says ‘Thank you’, but that’s what it is, his imagination, because he’s desperate and he can’t lose him, he _can’t_. Bradley then puts his hand in his neck and for a second, he imagines he’s trying to pull him for a kiss. But he resists, because… because it can’t be. And because it’s too much, too suddenly. But then the hand slips away and Bradley— _Arthur_ closes his eyes and _this is it_ , this is where he shakes him, this is where he loses it, this is where he screams, and he’s doing it already, terrified of losing him, screaming for him to come back, and he opens his eyes, just for a second, and he feels relief for a moment, only to replace it with sheer terror when he closes them again. 

He keeps murmuring ‘no’ because it’s not real. He’s not dying, he’s not leaving him. He can’t.  
But then everything stops rudely when he hears “Cut!” and he’s shaking and Bradley opens his eyes and looks at him and _he knows_ , he knows that it wasn’t acting, he knows that it’s beyond the script, beyond the scene, beyond _everything_. And he smiles softly and runs his hand through Colin’s face.

“You’re not getting rid of me soon,” he says, and Colin is so desperate, he barks a laugh and controls himself before doing something stupid like crying. “God, Colin, you’re wasting yourself, hold all of that for when they’re shooting your angle!” he jokes and God, he’s right, but he can’t answer, he doesn’t trust his voice and Bradley has a point—as they look at each other he listens vaguely at Justin saying “That was magnificent, Bradley! That’s the one! Quickly! Colin’s angle now!” and he takes notice on the movement of people, the camera being positioned a few feet away from his face, but his eyes won’t leave Bradley’s, bluer as ever, shining as they do when he’s plotting something, and Colin smiles.

Everything’s fine.


End file.
